


Ride Home

by notjustmom



Series: TFP [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene, The Final Problem
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 09:24:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9378386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/pseuds/notjustmom





	1. Chapter 1

John climbed aboard the helicopter first and turned to make sure Sherlock got on after him.

"Sherlock, let's go home?"

"Home? I don't have one, remember?" Sherlock closed his eyes and began to back away.

"Sherlock."

"John."

"You have a home wherever I am, you will always have a home, Sherlock."

Sherlock opened his eyes and saw his friend there, the one who followed him to hell and back so many times. He nodded and fell in.

John smirked, but helped him settle into the seat next to him. He felt Sherlock shaking, even with his coat on, and knew it wasn't from the cold.

"Soldiers?" Sherlock whispered as he reached out for John's hand.

"It's all over, Sherlock. Company dismissed." John took Sherlock's hand in both of his. "It's okay."

"I meant it, John."

"What?"

"I would have pulled the trigger."

John brought Sherlock's hand to his lips and kissed his bruised knuckles.

"I would have. I would have, for you, John."

John's words were lost to the sounds of the helicopter, but soon, Sherlock was leaning into John's shoulder, fast asleep.

He didn't wake up until they had touched down lightly. He looked down at his hand, John's fingers still held on tightly.

"Home?"

"Home, Sherlock."


	2. Chapter 2

"Mike, how was her day?"

Mike Stamford looked John and Sherlock over and shook his head. "A lot better than yours, so I understand."

"Of course, officially, 'it' never happened," Sherlock muttered.

"Of course, and I thought I was missing something being an only child. Sorry, Sherlock. She went down an hour ago. I'll let myself out."

"Sherlock."

John watched as Sherlock collapsed onto the couch.

"Talk to me."

"I - what exactly do you want me to talk about, John?"

John shrugged and took off his jacket, thought about offering his friend a drink and realised it wasn't what either of them needed. He walked over to the couch, and whispered, "budge up."

Sherlock sat up a bit, enough so John could sit next to him, then curled in on himself until John laid a hand in his hair. "I'm so sorry, Sherlock." 

Sherlock tensed and choked out, "what for, John?"

"She'll never be able to apologise to you, yes, she could say the words, but she doesn't feel empathy, she doesn't truly feel anything, except loneliness, I imagine, and she didn't truly understand what that meant until you took her walkabout for chips. She saw you, could see you struggle with everything, and you still had enough left for her to take 'Faith's' case. And she understood how much she had missed, not being able to grow up with you. So, I wanted you to know I'm sorry about your friend."

Sherlock managed to whisper, "that's very kind, John," before the tears began. John expected something louder, but Sherlock had nothing but tears left. 

John whispered, "come here, Sherlock," and Sherlock moved enough so he was stretched out, his head literally in John's hands. He wept until he finally fell asleep. John followed him, and they managed a couple hours of sleep before Rosie could be heard over the monitor. Sherlock jumped, trying to recall where he was, then recognised Rosie's voice.

"I'm coming, Rosie, I'm coming."

 

When John awoke, four hours later, stiff and cranky, he heard Sherlock in the kitchen telling Rosie a story about two little boys who loved to pretend they were pirates. "His name was Victor, Rosie, and he was the best friend I ever had until I met your Papa. I'm going to tell you a secret, you have to promise not to tell him, but I love him, very much."

John cleared his throat from the doorway. "I love you, too, idiot."

Sherlock looked up and nodded. "I know, John. I know."

"Is there coffee?"

"Yup."

"Thank you for getting up with her."

"You need your beauty sleep more."

"Git."

"I do, you know, love you, always have."

"Me too."

"Since?"

"You deduced me within an inch of me punching you."

"Ah, the good old days."

"They were, Sherlock, the best days of my life."

"Mine, too, John, mine too."

"Breakfast?"

"Starving."


End file.
